Three's a Crowd
by HR always live on
Summary: Ruth and George arrive in London after fleeing Cyprus (8-1). Harry walks into their safe house, and suddenly Ruth makes sense. An AU story, some of which will be from George's perspective. Nico doesn't exist in this universe. Complete
1. Chapter 1

**An AU story, set at 8-1, where Nico doesn't exist. Thank you to theoofoof for reading this through for me.**

* * *

**George**

Ruth is standing in the tiny kitchen, making tea in the dingy flat she calls a safe house in the middle of London. Something from her past has come back to haunt her, which meant we had to come to England. I don't know why, and when she's being this distant with me, I'm not sure I want to. She has her back to me, but I recognise the rigid line of her spine. She's not really here. She's just bracing herself for whatever might be coming, whatever discussion we might have, or rather, the discussion I might impose on her. She needs to explain why we're here, but so far nothing has been forthcoming.

I'm in love with her, this enigma of a woman who never lets me under her guard. I know she doesn't love me, but I pretend that I don't know that. Because of how much I care for her and it's just easier that way. If I don't push her, she won't leave me. It's hard to bring up the subject which could push away the person you love.

"Ruth?"

She turns, her blue eyes a mask which I can't see behind. I never can. Before I can even think how to word what I want to say, the door opens. No knock, no polite pause waiting for us to answer, just a man barging in. I look and see a man of about fifty maybe. Shorter than me, slightly overweight but he looks like a strong man. His eyes run through the flat, wild and panicked. He settles his glance on me and I know that I've been assessed and judged within the two seconds he looks at me. Then his glance falls on Ruth. And just like that, I know.

I know he's the man who she always thinks of when she gets that distant look. The man who makes her do a double take whenever the word "London" is mentioned in the news. He's the man we both like to pretend isn't between us when we make love. And the dark intense look in his eyes as his gaze falls on Ruth lets me know exactly how he feels. He's in love with her, and I don't even need to hear him say it. It's in the air all around me. I actually feel like I'm the intruder here.

He's looking at her, his eyes intense but his body frozen. His eyes are running over her figure as if making sure she's really here. And as I look at her, I see that she's doing the same thing to him.

That tension Ruth always has, except with sleep, that tension has gone. She hasn't moved, but her entire body has softened towards him. This stranger who must have been responsible for her leaving London in the first place. Ruth looks almost happy. Still, there is this charged silence which no one is breaking. I feel like I'm the outsider looking in. As this thought occurs to me, I realise that is exactly what I am.

Physically Ruth and this stranger are very different. But the look on their faces is identical. The longing, the painful separation they must have had. She's never told me, but I've watched her face for endless months. I've never seen her look this open, and it's written on every plane of her face.

She didn't even tell me his name. Ruth isn't crass or careless. It wasn't as if she'd ever called out his name during sex, or mentioned him at all. That would have meant she'd let her guard down with me, which she never did. Only now, seeing her complete opposite behaviour am I aware of just how much of her she hid from me.

"Harry," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. Maybe it's a testament to her mask she's worn for the past year, but I don't hear the longing I thought I would from the look on their faces.

"Ruth," he replies. He says her name as if it's the most sensual word he knows. At that moment, I know I'm going home to Cyprus alone.

* * *

**What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the enthusiasm for the first chapter. I've decided to alternate perspectives, so there will be a lot of Harry and George. I rarely write in the first person, so I hope it's believable.**

* * *

**Harry**

I rush in. I need to see her with a powerful urgency I can't describe. I've only just escaped from Mani's clutches, thanks to the grids diligent work and the first thing I did after securing my freedom is come here. My wrists still sting from the restraints I was in, but I don't care. I know they told me she was safe, but I need to see her with my own eyes. After three years, that's not too much to ask, is it? I don't even bother to knock, hurrying as if time is running out. Maybe it is.

Firstly, I see a man I don't recognise. Tall, dark and tanned. Judging by the look in his eyes, he's Ruth's partner. I can't even bring myself to think the word "lover" as it would crowd my head with too many images which I don't want to see. I'm putting that in a locked part of my head, to examine when I have more time. He has kind, wary eyes, and he doesn't like what he sees when he looks at me, it's obvious.

I turn, trying to find her which only takes a second. She's in front of me, realer than I'd dared hope. She's just as I remember her, with some improvements because my memory was clearly lacking. Her eyes are blue, bright and hold the hint of a smile for me. I let my eyes scan over her quickly, assuring myself that she is indeed in one piece. She is, and my eyes return to her face, tracing the path my fingers ache to touch. But I can't. All I want is to hold her in my arms and never let her go, after so long apart. But we have company, and I don't know what this man is to her. Her lips are parted slightly and she licks them. Does she know how erotic that is?

Have three years really passed since the last time I saw her? I can barely believe that. Seeing her again, so vivid and real tells me that I can't live without her. I thought I could. I've been pretending that I can, but I can't. It's been a half life, throwing myself into work because I have nothing else to live for. Now I'm seeing her again and I realise how pointless it all was. I don't need to have more than this. If all I ever have with her is the opportunity to look at her, I'll live with that. Easily. But I have missed her, terribly. Her wit, her intelligence, the way she looks at me. Like she's looking at me right now. Ruth sees me. She sees the man I really am, behind the persona I wear on the grid and even more remarkably, she respects that man too. Maybe even… no. I choke that thought off. She holds a cup of tea that she seems to have forgotten about.

"Harry." Her voice saying my name feels wonderful. The lilt and timbre of it hasn't changed one bit. I see her trying to hold back a smile, probably with the company we've got.

"Ruth," I respond. Her eyes brighten at me at the moment I speak her name and I wonder what she's thinking. Almost in the same instant we turn to the person who is the intruder to our reunion. His eyes are flicking between the pair of us and all I want is for him to leave. It won't be that simple.

* * *

**More soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**George**

"George, this is Harry," she said. I can see the effort it takes for her to keep her composure, but keep it she does.

"Harry, George," she said. "I used to work for Harry when I was in London," she explained. I have no idea what work she used to do in London, nor why she had to leave, but at her words I have a vivid image of this Harry making love to her on a random desk in a London office. The image is shocking with its intensity, even more so with the fact I hadn't been consciously thinking about it. There is something there, and the word that I think of is _history_. The room is filled with it.

"I'm sorry to intrude, but I need to have a private word with Ruth," Harry said, speaking gently. "About what happened which caused you to leave Cyprus."

"Of course," I find myself agreeing. He knows how to deal with people. He knows how to handle people to get exactly what he wants, when he wants it. I can tell he's a master manipulator and he's only said two sentences to me. I've already lost Ruth. But now I'm almost afraid to leave him alone with her. But I can't think of a single word to say that would make her stay with me and not leave with him. Anything I say will seem petulant and like I'm claiming ownership over her. There's a small balcony on this flat and they both make their way there.

The doors are glass and I can still see them as they stand overlooking the city, even though I can no longer hear them. They're oblivious to me now. Neither one of them so much as glances back. Much to my surprise, they don't touch. They stand slightly apart, so not so much as one hair can touch the other, and they're looking outwards, not at each other. I thought they'd embrace. I expected it and was braced to see her hold another man. To kiss another man. But they don't. They are simply talking. The only movement she makes is the occasional glance in his direction and tucking her hair behind her ears.

It comes to me that this is a relationship I can never understand. Because it's got little to do with the physical. They both feel their connection on a much deeper level which I don't. With Ruth, I never have because that part of her was closed to me. Now I see why. That part of her belonged to him, always.

The conversation must go on for ten minutes at least. I cannot look away, so I see the moment he moves half a step towards her, looking at her instead of the city. She turns towards him, looking deeply into his eyes. The jealousy is intense, not just because she's looking at another man like that, but because she's never looked at me with such openness.

He reaches for her face, his palm caressing her, but to my surprise, she shies away. I can see her lips saying "no." Then she shakes her head and the disappointment on Harry's face isn't feigned. It's honest and raw. He turns to come back in, opening the door, but Ruth calls him back. Now I can hear them.

"Harry, what happened to the others?" she asks softly. "Are they okay?" Harry's face blanches and I know that whoever she's talking about, they are not okay.

"Oh. Who?" she asked, reading his face better than I can. "It was bad, wasn't it?"

"Adam and Zaf," he says shortly.

The grief and sadness on her face is instant. "How?"

"Adam… it was quick," he says. "Car bomb. He wouldn't have felt anything." The grief she shows is matched by him. He isn't hiding his emotions, he's letting her see how this hurts him too. I don't think it's feigned. Is anything between these two feigned, false or forced?

"And Zaf?"

"You don't want to know," he tells her.

"I do," she insists. "Tell me." I'm surprised by how much this man listens to her. He's clearly used to being in a position of authority, but her soft voice breaks him. Her voice is one, it seems, that he cannot deny.

"Don't ask me to hurt you like this, Ruth." His voice is filled with pain, even I can hear it.

"Tell me," she repeats. He sighs, then holds her hand. This time, she doesn't pull away, causing a flash of pain to go through me.

"He was captured and sold on. Tortured for information, then sold on again. And again. We found his body six months later and… trust me Ruth. You do not want to see those pictures. I will never show them to you."

She closes her eyes, genuine pain on her face, and I know she's just been told of the loss of friends. "Ruth, I…"

"You should go," she tells him. He says nothing, but staring at her intensely, as if willing her to read his mind. I know what he's thinking. _Leave him. Come home with me._ I know because I'm thinking exactly the same thing. "Go," she repeats.

He does, coming back into the room. I make no apologies for watching and listening so obviously. "Sorry," he says politely, before leaving the flat, the door clicking shut behind him. That small word is so pointless. He isn't sorry. The look of intense desire on his face shows how much sorry doesn't cover his range of emotions. I ask myself what does he think he's apologising for? Or is it just British politeness? Sorry for ruining your relationship, taking your partner and making you run from your home. Sorry is so inadequate.

Ruth comes back into the room, looking at me. Her face is open, and she's never looked at me like that before. I can tell that this stranger has her heart.

"You need to talk to me," I say.

"Yes," she agreed. "I owe you an explanation, you're right." We sit down at the kitchen table and I wait to hear exactly what has torn the rug out from under me.

* * *

**I'm actually really enjoying writing this from George's perspective! Thank you for the reviews so far.**


	4. Chapter 4

**George**

She's talking but it isn't making much sense to me. It all seems like a blur. She used to work for MI5. British secret police. That much has gone in. No wonder she kept so many secrets. It had been a way of life for her for so long, she couldn't be open with me. Not that I truly think she wanted to confide in me. For her, it was easier to keep closed off.

"Why did you have to leave London?" I ask. It's not what I mean though. I mean why did she leave him? The looks they give each other tell me she wouldn't have gone if she'd felt she had a free choice about it.

"It's… complicated," she says, looking at her hands on the table. Looking anywhere but at me, and I feel another sting of betrayal. The least I deserve, the least she can do is look at me.

"I don't care," I say softly. "I'm sure it is complicated, but I deserve to know why and how you wandered into my life."

"I know you do," she says. "Just… understand that there are certain things I can't tell you. It'd be… dangerous to you."

"Ruth," I say. "Tell me. And would you please look at me." It takes a moment, but she does. Ruth is many things, but not a coward. She doesn't shy away from me.

"The short version is that someone in our section… our department was being set up for murder. When it came down to it, the person being blamed was either myself or… Harry." She pauses slightly before saying the name. His name, but I catch the hesitation. Why? Does she not want to talk about him with me? "It was very stressful at the time, and it was a gut instinct. I… It wasn't going away. Even Harry couldn't make this go away." She blushes, seeming to think that she's said too much. She doesn't need to be worried. I know how things stand. I can already see that she puts him on a pedestal, deserved or not, I'll never know. Probably not, I think unkindly.

"Anyway, I gave myself up for the crime. And we arranged it so my death was faked.

"You gave up your freedom for him," I say. It's obvious now I can see how deep the feelings go.

"It wasn't just one sided," she says. "It was more. And he'd never have allowed me to do it, had he known. They had him in prison for the murder at the time. I couldn't leave him there. He'd have taken the fall for me. I couldn't have that."

"If neither of you were guilty, it shouldn't have mattered that he was willing to take the blame," I say.

"He's more important than me," she says without thinking. "He was needed more than I was."

"For Gods sake, Ruth," I say. "Why? Why do you value him so much? Why are you even with me?"

"I'm sorry,"

"I don't want apologies, I want answers!" I'm close to losing my temper and I take a deep breath to try and stay calm. I never lose my temper.

"I sometimes hate myself," she says, surprising me. "How have I turned into this person? It's… he's a weakness of mine. I've known that for many years. I don't want to feel this way. All I've wanted for years is to be able to let him go." She looks at me despairingly and I believe her. She doesn't want to feel this way. Or maybe… she didn't. Now that she's seen him again, I'm not so sure. Her face is brighter than before. We're sitting in a squalid flat in grey and rainy London and she looks happier than she ever did in bright and beautiful Cyprus. I try not to let that hurt me. It does anyway.

"Obviously I couldn't stay in Britain, so I left," she continues.

"And bumped into me," I say. "Why me? You don't love me. You never did, so why me?"

"George," she says softly. I feel a lump in my throat at the way she says my name. That soft little word always sounds wonderful from her, and it's one of the reasons I fell in love with her. Sounds stupid, that, but it's true. It's certainly what attracted me to her. And her eyes. And her quiet intelligence which she never showed off. She just… was. I realise I'm now thinking of Ruth in the past tense. That says it all really. "George, I did love you. Not in the same way, but it's true. I care for you."

"Ruth… just don't."

"Why me?" I repeat. I don't know why I'm pushing this. It's over. I know that, but I just can't leave it alone.

"Because you're a good man," she said, smiling slightly. "You are a good kind honest man, who never asked for more from me than I could give. And we were happy."

"For a time," I have to agree. We were happy. Our relationship was uncomplicated. I can instantly see why she needed uncomplicated after Harry. Even after a few minutes. It was easy to be with her, and we slipped into a routine so beautifully simply.

"Ruth, I need to go home." I sigh heavily. There's no point going over this. I know she won't come back with me. Still, I can't resist adding, "Alone?"

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I never planned this. I don't mean to hurt you, but I can't leave him again. I'm so sorry."

"Ruth, just don't," I say. I force a smile at her. She doesn't want to hurt me, I know that. It hurts just the same though. "I need you to do one thing before you walk out of my life. Can you?"

"Of course. Anything."

* * *

**More soon. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I find it harder to write in the first person, which is why there's a longer gap between chapters. Enjoy.**

* * *

**George**

It's freezing. And near dark, but I need to have this conversation before I leave the country. For some reason Harry thought meeting in an abandoned children's playground was a good idea. And I need to talk to him so badly that I didn't argue too much on the very short phone call he'd deigned to have with me. Ruth had given me his phone number, the favour I'd asked of her. She'd hesitated but could see my point and gave in.

I sit on a bench, waiting. I wrap my coat tightly around myself, hoping it doesn't rain. I see him in the distance, in a dark coat, walking towards me across the playing fields. He doesn't look happy to be here, but at least he let me meet him. And came to talk to me. He stands a few feet away from me, looking me up and down again. I hate that look. I almost say thanks for coming, but I hold it back at the last moment. I don't want to thank this man.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asks, breaking the silence first.

"Ruth. What else would it be?" He nods. He's expecting this.

"I'm not going to…" he starts. He coughs, clears his throat, then tries again. "I'm not going to take her from you. I won't ruin her life again." I stare at him. I didn't expect him to say that. "It was enough to see her happy." Did he really think Ruth was happy? Well, when he was in the room, she was happy, I remind myself. So of course Harry thought she was happy with him.

"I'm never going to understand what it is between the two of you," I tell him. "I can't." Harry doesn't respond. He simply stays silent. "Why would you let her go?"

"The only thing I want is for her to be happy and content in her life. That's all. I don't need her to be with me, I need her to be… just happy." He looks like he's being honest, but I remind myself that he's a professional liar.

The next is a hard question for me to ask. But I do. "Do you love her?"

"I don't think my answer would help anyone in this situation," he said, avoiding the question.

"I need to know," I insist. "Before I go home, I need to know."

"Yes," he said softly. "I love her. I always have." At least he's man enough to answer me. I knew it, but I needed to hear it from him.

"She deserves to be looked after. She needs to be looked after," I say. I get the feeling this man will do it, but I had to say it anyway.

"Wait," he said, suddenly looking disconcerted for the first time since he appeared. "You're not… you're not going to fight for her? You're just leaving?"

"Yes," I say. "I am leaving. It's clear to me that she doesn't want me. She… All she has to do is look at you, and like that I know. I can't compete with you, even if I wanted to. I don't even think it was a conscious choice for her. It's just you."

"You're a decent man," Harry says after a moment of silence.

"I'm jealous of you," I admit. I am, almost blindingly so. "The way she looks at you… I've never had that." I feel like I've shared too much, so I turn and start to leave.

"George." I turn. He hasn't said my name yet, and that's what makes me pause. "Our… mine and Ruth's relationship is… complicated."

"I don't want the details," I say fervently. I desperately don't want to see her in bed with another man, even in my minds eye.

"It's not like you're thinking," he says, reading my face well. "I've only kissed her twice. Nothing more. To be honest, I can't even describe our relationship to myself."

"I don't believe you," I tell him. "No one looks at a woman that way without… I'm going home." I choke off the thought. Ruth is lost to me. Thinking about her with this man won't help me. "She needs to be loved. I couldn't give her that. Not the way you can." I feel hollow saying it, but I have nothing left to lose when it comes to her. I turn and walk away. There's nothing left for me to do here anyway. I'm going home.

* * *

**So who's pov next, Harry or Ruth?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Harry**

I can't sleep. All I can think about is the haunted look on George's face when he spoke about letting her go. I understand that look, as I've been living it for three years. The letting her go. Wondering if I'd done anything differently would the ending have changed? I understand him. Which doesn't mean I like him, in fact I'm very jealous of him. To get under Ruth's skin enough that she would willingly let him in. She's never let me in. Not really. After the initial joy of seeing her, I'm beginning to wonder if we can ever get back to where we were. To what we almost had between us.

I did call her earlier, but the conversation was short and nothing really was said between us. She told me that George had left the country, catching a late flight back to Cyprus. He hadn't wanted to stay. She hadn't told me whether she'd miss him, whether she felt guilty or anything else. And I was too scared to ask. She'd asked me if it was still necessary for her to be in a safe house, and I'd told her no. She was safe, or as safe as she could be. I will get her name and identity restored to her. The Home Secretary owes me a few favours, and this is a more… personal one which won't have difficult repercussions for him. Blake will agree, I'm almost positive.

I turn over in bed, staring at the curtain covered window. I don't know what to do about Ruth. I want more with her, and from our conversation on the balcony, that spark, that attraction between the two of us is still there. That indefinable thing that seems to be in the air between us seems, if possible, even stronger. Or maybe during the three year absence, I forgot the effect that this beautiful woman has on me. I didn't think I could forget anything about her, but three years is a long time. Something was bound to slip through my memory.

I love her. I know that, but I don't know if I'll ever get the chance to tell her. It's more than physical attraction, so much more. If it had only been that, I'd have moved past her a long time ago. After all, it's hardly the first time I've had to lose an agent under circumstances which weren't their fault.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I'm aware of is my phone ringing. It's not a red flash from the grid and I answer it groggily. "Yes?"

"Harry." I feel a jump in my heart at her voice. I'd know that voice anywhere.

"Ruth," I say. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she says. "I'm outside your house. I… thought you'd be up. Did I wake you?"

Her voice has a tinge of concern and I hold back my smile. "No," I lie. Then realising that she'll see through this, especially if she really is outside my house I change my mind. "Yes. I didn't sleep that well."

"Oh," she says. "Listen, it's not important. I'll come back another time."

"It is important," I tell her. She wouldn't be here otherwise, especially not this early. I know her well enough to know she wouldn't disturb me at home for something trivial. "Just give me five minutes, and I'll unlock the door."

"Okay," she said. "I'll wait." It's amazing what her voice can do to me. The way it feels as if she's caressing those two words, "I'll wait." My pulse is already racing and I know it. This woman's proximity to me is no good for me, and probably not for her either. But I can't stay away from her. I don't even want to try.

* * *

I disable the alarm and let Ruth in. She has a small smile on her lips and a little of that haunted look has gone. It's still there but less pronounced. Her hair's a little longer than it was before Cotterdam, but her eyes are just the same. She holds two coffee cups and proffers one to me.

"None of this is your fault, Harry. I know that. Can I come in?" We move through to the kitchen and I look at her as she sits down.

"Coffee?" I ask. She never drinks coffee. Or she didn't. Before.

"I couldn't get any decent tea abroad. I learnt to appreciate coffee while I was away. I got you a white coffee with one sugar."

"You remember how I like my coffee?"

"I remember a lot of things," she said.

"We need to talk about George." I want to take the words back the second I've said them, because her face closes off and her eyes go to the table.

"Harry, have you really spent the last three years single?" She doesn't look up, instead finding the wood grain of my table fascinating.

"Yes," I say. She looks up then, eyes wide as if unable to believe it. "I've not allowed myself to think of anyone like that." It's difficult to admit this to her, but it's the truth. I've had the opportunity, even with most of my waking hours spent on the grid. But every time I contemplated physically being with another woman, I felt guilty. Rather ironic, seeing as she clearly hadn't felt that way. No, I think. That's being too harsh on her. She never expected to come home.

"Harry, George and I… it's a very hard relationship to define." She takes a sip of her coffee, to give her time to choose her next words. "He is a good man. I don't want to hurt you, but he is. And we were both lonely. He didn't ask for more from me than I could give. I… it was nearly two years after I left London. Around the time I fully came to understand that I could never come home."

"I'm going to get that sorted today," I say quietly, not wanting to interrupt her story, but needing her to know she'll have her name back soon.

She smiles slightly. A smile that warms me deep inside. Oh, I long for her. Even sitting across the table from me, her pale hands fiddling with the top of her coffee cup. Something so innocent, and I need her. "George was convenient for me, even though I hate to say that. He deserved more than me, a woman who was only ever half there. I'm not going to tell you more about him than necessary, because it isn't fair to him."

"Okay," I say. I take my first sip of coffee and she gasps. I follow her eye line and see what she's looking at. My shirt sleeves are rolled up, so she can see clearly. She sees the knife cuts on my forearms, courtesy of Mani when he realised everything was going pair shaped. They're deeper than I'd like, but not too bad. I've certainly had worse.

"How?"

"Mani and the uranium. I'm fine." She reaches across the table and touches me. Her index finger traces the vivid red lines of the wounds, gently, softly. Her warm touch sends electricity through my nervous system, the two of us so rarely touch. So exquisite does it feel, that I don't realise I've closed my eyes until she draws away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't." She smiled at me, a beautiful smile.

"I wondered if… when I'm settled, I could get my job back?"

I'm a little thrown by the change of subject, but then I nod. "Of course. Though we've got a lot of paperwork, so it'll be boring for a while…"

"I can live with boring," she said. "Thank you, Harry." I smile at the warmth in her voice and then sigh. My phone's ringing, and this time it is from the grid.

"Ruth, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to…"

"I understand," she said. "I'll go. Find a flat."

"Oh, there's a few dozen London flats that we have ready for… MI5 agents to move in to on short notice," I tell her as the phone goes quiet.

"I know," she said, smiling. "I hacked into the grid and found the list of the properties."

"And no one noticed we were being hacked?" I ask in surprise.

"Oh, Malcolm did," she said. "I don't think he minded though, as I didn't go near anything too sensitive."

"You're wonderful," I say before I can stop myself. Luckily, she takes the compliment well, smiling at me.

"I'll leave you to it," she says as my phone rings yet again. She knows I have to go. Once she's gone, I answer the phone, internally sighing. The service of my country beckons.

* * *

**More soon. Thank you for the wonderful reviews so far.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've made Ruth a bit bolder than she was in the series, but I had to get it moving somehow!**

* * *

**Harry**

Within two weeks, Ruth is back on the grid. She's slipped back into the team as if she'd never been away and I've missed her. Even if I ignore the personal implications, professionally she hasn't lost her touch. The way she quietly and efficiently handles the information and sorts out what's relevant from what isn't. We haven't spoken about us since that occasion when she'd come to my house. The grid's been busy, and to be honest I'm not trying too hard to mention George. I'm too frightened of what she'll tell me, even though I understand that the relationship was more one of convenience than passion. It still hurts.

I have noticed that the knife marks on my arms have faded into scars rather than open wounds. I'm slightly disappointed in this, because it means there's little chance Ruth will touch me the way she did before. I do realise that it's rather sad, to be longing for such a brief touch from her, but I know why.

It's late at night, and I've started on the whisky when I hear a knock on my door. Without waiting for an answer, the door opens and Ruth's head appears. The smile slips from her face when she sees me and my heart drops.

"Oh," she says.

"Oh?" I ask.

"I was going to suggest going out for a drink," she says. "I see you've started without me though." I turn and quickly grab a glass, pouring her a small measure of whisky. When she sees what I'm doing, she comes in and closes the door, sitting on the opposite side of my desk. She cradles the glass before taking a sip. "Oh, that's good," she murmurs.

"How are you… settling in?" I realise it's a stupid inane question the second I've asked it, but I don't want to sit in silence with her.

"It really is like I've never been away," she says. "It's had a redecoration and the systems have been updated, but I can do the job."

"You are doing it incredibly well, too," I say. "I'm glad you're back." The words are simple but I mean them and more. Maybe I show it in my voice, because she looks at me, her blue eyes clear and open, but her gaze doesn't drop. I feel like blushing under her scrutiny, but I'm far too old for that.

"Do you want to know the truth?" she asks.

I don't know. Do I? I say nothing but nod, as she takes another sip of whisky.

"The truth is, I didn't want to come back to the grid for MI5, or for the country, or whatever other reason you might imagine," she says. I wait, wondering what's coming next. "I came back… to be near you." She does blush at this, but holds my gaze and I don't know what to think. Have I slipped into a dream? No, because she's still watching and waiting, for me to say… anything. I don't. Instead I reach for her hand which is wrapped around her whisky glass. She lets go, her palm falling to the desk before I take her hand in mine. I gently allow my thumb to caress her skin, softly and gently. We're both looking at our joined hands and I can't look away. She moves and entwines our fingers together, squeezing gently for a moment. I sigh without conscious thought and she loosens her grip. _No,_ I want to tell her. But then she strokes the back of my hand lightly. Almost teasingly. God, what would her touch feel like everywhere else? I have to turn my mind away from those dangerous thoughts. Not when I'm in a confined space with her.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me?" I ask, before I realise I've formed the thought. I don't want to take it back though, so I wait.

"I do," she says, not letting go of my hand. "Of course I do, but…"

"But?" I ask, feeling my heart drop.

"I need us to go slowly," she tells me. "I can't rush into anything after George. Just a little bit of time."

"Just dinner," I say, smiling at her. I understand. Ruth and I are not the type of people to rush into anything. We never have been. In fact, asking her to dinner after only two weeks on the grid is an incredible speed for us. "I do understand," I reassure her, realising that she's waiting for me to say something. "I don't want anything more than your company over seafood and a bottle of wine."

"I'd love to," she agrees, smiling in a way which makes her eyes sparkle. She's so beautiful when she smiles. I love to see her happy.

"Good," I say. "I'll book a restaurant for Friday night. I think we might have a break in the terrorists and it'll be quiet." I hope. I so desperately hope we can have one night to ourselves. It's a pleasure which can't be underestimated in this job. She squeezes my hand once more before letting go, and I can feel the sense of loss in her touch. She drains her whisky glass and gets up, walking around the desk to me. I feel as if time has stopped for a moment. She leans towards me and presses a soft chaste kiss on my cheek. I feel powerless to react, so surprised am I.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Harry," she says, letting her voice almost caress my name. I'll never get tired of the way she speaks my name. Her face is flushed, maybe from being more forward than she usually is, but she must know my feelings by now. I watch as she leaves my office, and puts her coat on, before leaving through the pods. I am now alone, but I don't want to be. I want her.

* * *

**I'm wrapping this story up soon because I don't want it to drag on too long. Just the one chapter left now. Hope you enjoyed it.**


	8. Chapter 8

**2 months later**

**Ruth**

I'm on the roof of Thames House, leaning against the railing and looking over the city I love. It's cold. Much colder than I thought before leaving the grid. I left my scarf and gloves inside and I'm reluctant to go back at get them. I've been on the grid for a good twelve hours, working the overnight shift which somehow slid into a normal days work. I meant to leave at nine. It's midday and I'm still here. I'm tired, but its been worse in the past. I came up to the roof to be alone, or mostly alone. I know if I'm up here long enough, Harry will follow me and his presence would be more than welcome to me. I smile at the thought of him. It's been almost jarring, having him here every day after three years dreaming of him. It's what I hoped for, for years, and now that I have it, the feeling and the freedom of it is almost dizzying.

I shiver as a brief chill of wind goes over the roof. The door closes quietly, but I hear it. I don't turn because I know who it will be. I recognise the footfalls, and as he comes closer I recognise the scent of him. Slightly spicy, the gentle aroma of his soap underneath. He's showered recently and I sigh as he wraps his arms around my waist. His touch is warm and firm, and the heat of his chest seeps through the fabric of my coat.

"I've missed you," I say. It's been a while since we've been alone together, what with JIC meetings, the Home Office, and the overnight shifts I've been doing lately and I'm missing the newly found intimacy we have.

"You didn't even turn to see if it was me," he murmurs, his voice very close to my ear, making me shiver. His voice can be so seductive when he wants it to be.

"I didn't need to," I say. "I know you."

"You do, don't you?" he whispers, before dipping his head and kissing my cheek. I sigh and close my eyes as his mouth moves across my sensitive skin, eventually sucking my earlobe gently. He knows I love that and I moan before I can stop myself. He chuckles and I smile, before turning in his arms and kissing him thoroughly. His lips are soft and feel wonderful against my own, sending desire through my body. I want to know how his beautiful lips feel against other parts of me. We've not yet slept together and I have a feeling he's waiting for me to make the first move. My fault really, as I insisted on moving slowly.

"You're thinking loudly," he says, hazel eyes staring into my own. "Talk to me, Ruth," he adds gently.

I'm not surprised that he can read me so well. He always could. "I've finished work for the day," she said. "I was just… thinking about the rest of the evening."

"What're you planning?" he asked, eyes gentle with a slight twinkle of humour in them. I could get lost in those hypnotic eyes for days.

"I'm going to go home, have a shower, sleep for a few hours," I say. "Hopefully by then, you'll have finished with the grid for the day, and you'll come over. We'll eat dinner, and then we'll make love."

He'd been smiling, but at that last comment I see his eyes widen slightly in surprise. If I didn't know him so well, I wouldn't be able to tell, but I do know him.

"Really?" he said, voice low with suppressed desire. Or at least, I hope that's what I'm hearing.

"I was trying to think of a way of subtly suggesting it," I admit. "But I'm too tired to think about it, so I did it bluntly." I smile a little, because I'm not this forward. I never have been. "I want you, Harry."

He smiles and I feel a little of the tension leave me. He kisses me again, this time seductive and passionate. God, that kiss makes me want to have him right here, on the roof of Thames House. Forget the fact it's freezing, I'm exhausted and anyone could interrupt us. He strokes my face gently before whispering, "Go home. Get some sleep. I'll be there soon." I shiver at his words, but know he's right. I need to close my eyes and rest.

"I'm just going to enjoy London a little first," I say. "I hadn't seen it for so long. It's nice to remind myself that I'm home." He smiles, understanding and squeezes my hand for a moment before leaving me alone on the roof. My fingers tingle slightly from his touch and I smile. I can't wait for tonight.

* * *

**Thanks for reading this!**


End file.
